


don't talk about it

by traceylane



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, basically minho and his band of asshole friends, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceylane/pseuds/traceylane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-so who gave you that hickey au-</p>
<p>“Are we allowed to guess?” Brenda asks.</p>
<p>“Are we twelve?” Minho responds, but the other three grin at each other, taking that as a “Yes, <em>please</em>. Guess away.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't talk about it

Teresa’s been looking strangely at Minho ever since he sat down at their table in the library, and after the four of them have been discussing their last bio lab for a quarter of an hour she finally asks, “Minho, are you wearing makeup?”

Minho reddens, “What? No, I—”

But Teresa sticks out her hand faster than he can dodge it. She swipes her thumb against his neck right above his collar, and it comes away smeared with foundation.

“You filthy _liar_ ,” she says, and Minho just stares at her.

Thomas pulls down Teresa’s wrist to get a closer look at her fingers. “I’m pretty sure that’s not your shade, dude,” he says.

Brenda shakes her head, “You moron, did you even _try_ blending?”

Minho snatches his hand back. “Just shut up, all of you!”

“I would recommend concealer next time, but it doesn’t work if the way you apply it draws more attention than the thing you’re trying to hide, Minho,” Teresa deadpans.  

“Hic-key, hic-key, hic-key,” Brenda begins to chant, slamming her fists on the table with every first syllable. Thomas joins in, and people are starting to stare.

“We’re in a goddamn _library_ ,” Minho hisses at them, and they continue chanting, though their voices drop down to a menacing whisper, _“Hic-key, hic-key!”_

“Tell us who!” Teresa demands over the noise of the other two, though they’ve quieted down by the time Minho says “Like hell I’m telling you.”

“Are we allowed to guess?” Brenda asks.

“Are we _twelve_?” Minho responds, but the other three grin at each other, taking that as a “Yes, _please_. Guess away.”

Teresa continues her interrogation, “Do we know her? Or him. Or they—”

“Him,” Minho sighs, “and you do.” He supposes he’ll have to play the game if they’re ever going to get back to doing actual school work, and the other three “ _ooh_ ” like they’ve found the next clue to their goddamn scavenger hunt.

 “Was it a one-time thing?” Teresa asks, her voice lilting up but then sinking down an octave and a half so “Or is this a _serious_ thing?” sounds more ominous than it should. Minho swallows hard and avoids her gaze, but it’s enough for them to figure out the answer.

“I swear to God, bro, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything, I thought we were friends—”

“Gimme a break, Thomas, you didn’t tell me about you and Gally for weeks—”

“I _did_ tell you, you just always thought I was kidding—”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Brenda says, waving her hands in front of them, and when they look at her she asks, her voice low and final like she’s answering the Million Dollar Question, “Is it Aris?”

Minho narrows his eyes at her, more out of confusion than anything else. “Yes, Brenda, it was definitely Aris. I’m also dropping out of school to pursue a career in tap dance, and Thomas is pregnant.”

Brenda rolls her eyes, and Teresa pats Thomas on the shoulder with an “Oh, congratulations!”, but it’s a joke that Minho can’t even enjoy because he’s too pissed off.

“Damn,” Brenda says, leaning back in her chair, stumped. “I thought for sure it was him.”

 “Jesus, really? Aris? What the hell gave you that idea?”

Brenda raises an eyebrow. “Well, I, for one, distinctly remember our last New Year’s—”

Minho sticks out his hand and smashes it against her mouth to stop her from saying anything else. “Okay _, no._ We’re not talking about the New Year’s Party. That was a very low point in my life and I’ve erased it from my memory.”

“I haven’t,” Teresa says absently, but her eyes flicker to Brenda, who winks.

Thomas leans back in, somehow even more upset than before. “Can we get back to the fact that Minho has a boyfriend that he didn’t tell us about? That he didn’t tell _me_ about?” Thomas turns to Minho, serious as death. “What’s his name, Minho? Say it. You can tell me.”

Minho shoves him. “Will you quit it? I’m not telling you until I’m good and rea—”

“Minho, I saved your _life_.”

“Thomas, you calling the fire department to put out a fire _you_ _started_ doesn’t count as saving my life.”

“A fire _we_ started, Minho! We! Together! Because we’re _best friends_!”

Minho runs his hands through his hair and groans up at the ceiling. “Okay, this is ridiculous,” he mutters, haphazardly shuffling through his folders and notebooks without really looking at any of it, “We have better things to do than—”

“What the hell, dude, no!” Thomas takes Minho’s things, “You’re going to tell me about this guy!”

“Okay, give those back—”

“Is he _cute_?” he asks, and it’s interesting how Thomas can make such a pleasant question sound so distressed.

Minho loses it. “Yes, Thomas, he’s fucking adorable!”

His voice grows louder, “I just want to buy him fucking flowers and put them in his fucking beautiful hair and hold his fucking hand all day long and wrap my arms around his fucking waist and there is nowhere I’d rather be than with him and that includes here at this _fucking table with my group of nosy as fuck asshole friends_ —”

“ _This is a library!”_

Minho stops and the four of them look up suddenly, coming to a few realizations; one, they were being shushed by a thin man in a suspiciously white suit; two, Minho had been yelling at _just_ about the top of his lungs; and three—yes, they were currently in a library.

“Sorry,” Minho says quietly to the man and the other people around them who have been glaring at their table for who knows how long. The man shakes his head at them in that stereotypical way older people do when they’re irked by shenanigans of the youth, and stalks away.

And Minho lays his head down on the table because everything is a mess.

“Okay, but that was sweet,” Brenda says, leaning forward and whispering again.

Teresa joins in, “Hand-holding, Minho? _Flowers_? When’s the wedding?”

“I’m best man, right?” Thomas jibes, poking Minho’s arms, “I call it. I call best man.”

“I am going to kill _all of you_.”

And suddenly they hear heavy stomping, the sharp bang of someone running into one of the shelves, and a muffled “Ow!”

“Will you quit pushing me around?” someone says, and Gally bursts around the corner, dragging Newt by the arm. He’s pointing at something Newt is covering up with his hand, saying “The kid’s got a hickey, and he won’t tell me who from—”

But then he stops when he sees the four of them staring at him as if he’s just carried in a corpse and asked them to help him bury it.

Minho looks at Newt.

Newt looks at Minho.

Teresa gasps, Brenda bangs her fist on the table, grinning—“That was my second guess, I swear!”—and Thomas looks wounded.

“You two?” He whispers, looking between his two “best friends” that have apparently been fucking behind his back, the bastards. “You two are _dead_ to me.”

“Tommy, you’re being overdramatic,” Newt sighs, just as Minho throws up his hands, “Why am I friends with you people? Why?”

\--

“That wasn’t so bad,” Newt says that night in Minho’s room, his head on Minho’s chest where he can feel him let out a heavy breath.

“It was a wreck, but y’know, whatever. Now they know. And Thomas’ll stop sulking. Eventually.”

Newt looks up at him. “At least we told them together.”

“Basically at gunpoint, though.”

“What’d you expect? They’re _them_.”

Minho laughs softly at that, and puts a hand on Newt’s neck, pulling him up so Newt is smiling against his lips.

And soon Newt’s mouth is on Minho’s chest, right above his heart, and Minho inhales deep, his jaw set, while Newt runs his tongue over the mark he leaves.

“M’ just happy we won’t need to cover these up anymore,” Newt breathes against wet skin.

And Minho agrees.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly my favorite part about writing these is renaming the aus, but the prompt was:
> 
> “minewt - high school or college au, no one knows they recently started dating but they are 'busted' one day when they both come into school with hickeys”
> 
> Thanks anon, but this fic was a fuckign disaster holy s hit THIS WAS A MESs
> 
> but oh my god #BOTTLEEPISODE//I couldn’t resist putting like nine noodle incidents into this I’m sorry but it’s so funny to think about//i realize that my version of minho is getting more and more indignant, but it’s because his friends are so ridiculous and he can hardly deal//also I’m sorry for putting half an atom’s worth of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thomally mention, I’ll write something thomally-focused soon I promise
> 
> typo-call outs, prompts [to my tumblr](http://amazerunners.tumblr.com/ask), and feedback always always appreciated//thank you THANK YOU FOR READING!! Ily.


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